


To Get (And Keep) Her Attention

by afteriwake



Series: Sherlolly Spring Fling - April/May 2018 [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Implied Relationships, Inspired by Fanart, Matchmaker Mary Morstan, Minor Mary Morstan/John Watson, Music, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Sherlock Holmes, Pre-Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Shared iPod, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Composes, Sherlock Has A Crush, Sherlock Has Secrets, Study Buddies, Studying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-05-09 06:47:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14711141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: Sherlock will, grudgingly, admit he has a crush on his friend Molly. But how does he get her attention away from that wanker Tom? And more importantly, how does he keep her attention?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daisherz365](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisherz365/gifts).



> So this is a unilock fic written as a birthday present for **daisherz365**! She asked for something based on [this piece of fanart](https://gspacetrash.tumblr.com/post/173744793700/study-buddy) posted by **gspacetrash** , and I was happy to oblige! This won't be a very long fic and hopefully, I will finish it before the summer.

He hated studying. It was as though if the information wasn’t instantly absorbed during the lecture or, at the very least, during the group discussions that most of the professors held then it was worthless. He’d always felt that way, but the exams he was presented with here at Cambridge were a bit more difficult than he was used to.

A _bit_.

Fortunately, he had a secret weapon that made studying much easier to stomach. And tonight they were in the uni library, sharing their regular table.

Molly Hooper didn’t appear to be as brilliant as she was, but as he had found time and again, looks could be deceiving. She had an aptitude for absorbing knowledge, and a thirst for it as well, and the things he often considered too frivolous she knew more about and would patiently discuss them with him until he saw the merit in knowing that information. He’d had to admit, his marks had gotten better since the day she’d snapped at him to stop his incessant humming in the library so she could concentrate. What should have become a huge and very public row, knowing him, had become an invitation for coffee and a better understanding of biology.

He could not have been more grateful.

But he _could_ be better at showing it.

“So he’s a shite physics professor,” he was saying to her. “Please tell me that’s a subject you understand?”

She smiled at him. Literally, her smile was one of the few things that could stop a full-on tirade and cause abrupt speechlessness in him. Otherwise, he would ramble on and on with increasing vehemence. “I’m sure I can get you through it. It’s basically a combination of upper-level math and science, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” he said with a frown.

“Then we’ll muddle along just fine,” she said, reaching over to squeeze his hand. His mind blanked on him and he looked down at their joined hands, which much to his dismay were unjoined rather quickly. “Do you have any new compositions?”

Sherlock shook his head. “I haven’t had time to play the violin lately. But I should work on something, shouldn’t I?”

“Yes!” Molly said with an enthusiastic nod of her head. “You play the most brilliant things, Sherlock.”

A flush hit his cheeks and he looked down. “Thank you,” he said, damn near mumbling. Her encouragement to continue the violin was one of the few reasons he kept the blasted instrument around. The remembrance of his parents' insistence he master the instrument had led to some dark times, the times he preferred to never think about, let alone speak of.

Times Molly knew nothing about.

As close as they were, he kept things to the vest, even as she was open fully with him. Sometimes he wondered if he deserved her friendship. And other times, he sometimes wondered if she might be open to more if he were honest with himself. He was smitten and that, it seemed, could pose a problem.

But his mind was jolted out of its thoughts by the soft press of her lips against his cheek, and she saw she was gathering her things. “Where are you going?”

“Tom wanted to have a cuppa with me today, so our session for today is over, I’m afraid.”

“But why…?”

“To get your attention.” She smiled at him as she put her books in her messenger bag. “See you in two days?”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, bringing his fingers to where she had kissed his cheek. What did it all _mean_?

This was something he needed to ponder more...


	2. Chapter 2

He had very few friends in uni, and even fewer he could turn to with the conundrum that was Molly Hooper, but if there was anyone he knew he could trust with the idea he had _feelings_ for someone it was Mary Morstan, his mate John’s girlfriend. He supposed by now he could consider Mary one of his friends, but part of him still clung to the “alone protects me” mentality that had been drilled into his head at a young age and he felt the fewer mates he had, the better.

But if he had to admit it...yeah, Mary was a friend, and a rather good one, and the only one he trusted with the problem of having a shine on a girl who liked someone else.

He made his way to the flat that Mary and John shared, about a quarter mile away from his own, deciding to walk. The books he had from the library session weren’t too heavy and it gave him time to think. There wasn’t much he knew about Tom except he was popular, on the rowing crew, fairly wealthy and someone Molly fancied. There didn’t seem to be anything _wrong_ with him, something he could think of immediately that would make him unsuitable for Molly, but he could find out.

He just worried if he went around Molly’s back looking for dirt on Tom it would blow up in his face, and that was the absolute _last_ thing he wanted. And he also didn’t feel like being a rebound in the sense that she might bounce to him from Tom; if anything were to happen, he wanted it to have the best chance possible. This wasn’t his field, though, as he had spent large sections of his life closed off and actively pushing people away.

Hopefully, Mary could help.

He got to the flat and knocked on the door, smelling baking bread wafting through the air. Mary must be in a domestic mood, which he felt would be helpful to the current situation. The seriousness as to which the relationship between Mary and John was becoming led him to believe there might be a proposal of marriage well, and he hoped that marriage would suit the both of them well. They both deserved some measure of happiness, especially Mary, who had a past as spotted with dark bits as he did. He was sure she knew some of the details he had told John over the course of their friendship, if not all of them, and he found he didn’t truly mind if she did.

She opened the door, flour on her face, and gave him a wide smile. “Sherlock! I’d hug you but as you can see, I’m covered in flour and I doubt you want it on that on all that black clothing.”

“No worries,” he said, giving her a small grin in return. “Sourdough?”

She nodded. “I got a starter from a friend and figured I’d try it out. More complicated than some of my other loaves of bread but I’m looking forward to it. I think there’s another loaf if you’d like one?”

“You know, I think I would,” he said. “Could I talk to you about a personal matter?”

“Oh?” she asked, surprised. “Of course. But don’t you want John here?”

“It’s about... _feelings_.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she replied, nodding more. “Your study partner?”

He blinked, his turn to be surprised. “How did you know?”

“I saw the two of you in the library a few weeks back. She’s very pretty and seems very nice.”

“She is both of those things and more,” he said as she finally shut the door behind them and they drifted to the tiny kitchen in the flat. “And she’s seeing someone else, or at least there’s interest in seeing him.”

“Ah,” Mary said. “So you don’t know if they’re a thing or not?” Sherlock shook his hand. “What’s his name.”

“Tom Kirkpatrick.”

“Hmm. Last I heard he was ‘friendly’ with a few different girls, so I don’t suppose he and your friend are serious, but who knows? I could be wrong.” She went back to her bread dough on the worktop. “Have you thought about just asking?”

“That could be disastrous,” he replied.

“Could be the best thing that ever happened to you, too,” Mary pointed out. “You don’t know until you find out if you have a shot.” She was quiet as she kneaded the dough for a moment. “Are you still composing?”

“Nothing lately. I haven’t had the inclination in ages. Though Molly did ask as well.”

“Well, if nothing else, this woman--”

“Molly,” he filled in.

“--has done you a great service in helping you study better. Compose a song for her as a gift. The term is almost over and no one’s futures are ever certain enough to know who’s coming back to uni and who isn’t. It’s now or never, Sherlock. Seize any opportunity you have with both hands or you may lose it forever.” There was a ding of a timer and she nodded to the oven. “Pull it out for me? I’m a bit busy here.”

Sherlock nodded and moved towards the oven. Mary had a point, and it was a very valid one, but still. What could a piece of music possibly convince Molly of in regards to how he felt. Still...maybe he should try. It couldn’t hurt, at least.


	3. Chapter 3

He went back to his flat that night and began by picking up his violin. It had been a few weeks since he had done more than play the scales and a few exercise pieces to remember the feel of the violin in his hands. Far longer was the amount of time that had passed since he had composed something. It reminded him of the pressure he had felt at the London Conservatory of Music, where his parents had sent him once he had been hailed as a prodigy. Where he had been introduced to so many glorious instruments and music...and where he had also been introduced the drugs that had drastically changed his life as the pressure mounted to be better than everyone else.

He made it through to graduation but had decided during his gap year he was going to go far away, leave his past and his instrument behind. A batch of bad heroin derailed his plans, however. He had only gotten a taste for stuff in his last term at the conservatory and he did not have the guidance, he supposed, to know when a batch was bad. But his had been cut with something that nearly caused his death.

One year off became two as he was sent to an outpatient rehabilitation for most of his gap year and he used some of his own inheritance to put off Cambridge an extra year and live in the university town but not attend school. He wanted to be sure that that was where he wanted to be and a life without playing the violin was the life he wanted to lead. Four years later and one year shy of graduation, he felt like he had, indeed, made the right choice walking away.

Still, music was in his blood, had been since he could first hum, and he knew he’d never be able to stay away forever. Soft encouragement from Molly had caused him to go home and get the violin during one break, and occasionally record pieces for her to listen to. Never his own, though; those he kept close for many many reasons, the first of which is that he never considered them to be any good. But this one would be more than good.

It would be perfect.

He realized it should have felt like a metric ton of pressure on his shoulders, but in actuality the more he thought about Molly and the more he pictured in his minds the aspects of her and her personality and her warmth and kindness that he loved the most, the easier it was to let the music flow. Soon he ran out of blank sheet music and began jotting the notes down in a composition book, drawing the sheet music himself.

Music had not flowed this easily for him in years, but somehow, giving this gift to Molly had opened up a part of him he had closed off since he was young, since the drugs, and there was a sense of freedom in having a purpose to composing something that had nothing to do with his education or competing with others. And as he took his violin to his bow as he began to play it through, pausing to rework a section here and there, he felt that, perhaps, it was time to open himself up more, whether Molly stayed just a friend or became more to him.


	4. Chapter 4

He was nervous as he waited at the library for her, fiddling with the iPod he had put the hastily recorded song for Molly on. It had been a week since he had composed it and then fine-tuned it to add piano as well, an instrument he played well enough to make the song work. He had considered hiring a student pianist or someone else to do that part but in the end, thought it would be best if he did it himself. It sounded far rougher than recordings he had done in the past, but he was still hopeful she would enjoy it.

She approached their normal table with a frown on her face, one he almost instantly mirrored. “Molly? Is anything wrong?”

“Tom’s an arse,” she said with a sigh, sitting next to him and putting her bag holding her books on the table in front of her. “He was being friendly just to get into my knickers, but Angelina Harris said he was _her_ boyfriend and we told him together he was a piece of shite. I would hope he was single now but I’m sure there’s someone else in the wings.” 

“That’s not fair to you or the other girl,” he said.

“No, but she’s actually quite nice and she’s a pre-medical major like I am so we may study together sometimes on topics you don’t take.” She gave him a smile then. “But enough about my bad luck in romance. Did you do well on the test?”

“I got all the questions answered correctly,” he said.

“I’m so proud!” she said before leaning over and giving him a hug. “See? You really are getting the hang of it.”

“I suppose I am,” he said with a grin. “I have a present for you.”

“Really?” she asked, pulling away without letting go of him. “Why?”

“Because you’ve been helpful and I was...inspired.” He indicated the iPod. “I composed a violin and piano duet. I played both instruments myself, so I apologize if the piano isn’t up to par.”

“Oh, I doubt it will be anything less than perfect,” she said, pulling her arms away and picking up the iPod and the headphones. She stuck one earbud in one ear and then repeated her actions with the other, shutting her eyes as she pressed play. He watched as she smiled and her mouth showed signs of being pleasantly surprised. There were even tears leaking from the corners of her eyes by the end. She dashed them away and then pulled the earbuds out, leaning over and kissing him softly on the lips, not seemingly caring that they could have an audience. When she was done, she blushed and looked down. “Thank you. It was gorgeous.”

He was shell-shocked for a moment and then blushed as well. “You’re welcome. I’ll send you a copy of the file tonight.”

“Or you could send it after dinner?” she asked. “I...would you like to get something after our study session?”

“Gladly,” he said, giving her a wide smile, an expression he had almost never worn on his face before this moment. It had been rare that he had ever been so happy.

“We should listen to it together,” she said. “While we run through our work and whatnot.” She handed him one of the earbuds and he put it in his ear while she did the same with the other in her ear. She picked up the iPod, restarted the song and then set the iPod on the table between them as they each turned to their work, the music coursing into their heads a song of celebration that the two of them were taking a step forward to something that, hopefully, would make them both happy.


End file.
